A Study in Donuts
by Disguise of Carnivorism
Summary: Light, renegade detective, declares war on L, the Greatest Detective in the World. The collateral will be horrifying. /AU/
1. Chapter 1

Naomi Misora woke up to what she first thought was her alarm clock. After hitting sleep three times, she realized it was her cell phone.

That was Tuesday. That was the beginning.

What it was the beginning of, she wouldn't decide until much later—after the feeling of foreboding had faded into the feeling of nostalgia and distant regret. She wouldn't have a name for the incident until quite later, either. However, even in the beginning, on that fateful Tuesday morning, she had the feeling that it would involve passive aggressive detectives trying to beat the shit out of each other with words and threats instead of sheer violence.

That was normal for Naomi Misora's life. Being a former FBI agent and living with a current FBI agent, she had accepted her fate as having to deal with the most bizarre social pariahs to have ever walked the earth, criminal and detective alike. If something was going to go wrong in her life, at four a.m., it had detectives written all over it.

Also the caller I.D. said that it was from Ryuzaki—despite of the fact that the only Ryuzaki she knew had lit himself on fire in an attempt to beat the detective L at his own game. Somewhere, she thought, Beyond Birthday confused his logic. (B wants to be smarter than L. Being smarter than L means somehow manipulating, inconveniencing, and otherwise dumbfounding him. Therefore, B lights self on fire. She wasn't quite sure which fallacy that was.) If fire equaled victory and superior intelligence… That, however, was a long story she was not going to get into at four a.m. She had a resigned feeling that it would be repeated soon, anyhow.

"Hello?" Naomi answered in a groggy tone. It was just like L to call her at four a.m. after years of never speaking to her or even sending her an e-mail.

"Naomi Misora," said L's robotic and rather irritatingly loud voice. He didn't even bother to say hello. Naomi looked down at Raye, who still was passed out on the bed, and sighed. No doubt he would not approve of whatever scheme L had concocted.

"Yes?" she asked, getting up and putting on slippers. (She had a feeling she was going to be buying a plane ticket to somewhere ridiculous…)

"I have a job for you." How did a masked robotic voice manage to sound so very gleeful?

"Will I be working with another murderer?" Naomi asked. She had a gun but she wasn't certain she wanted to have to use it again. (Her license had been revoked, anyway.)

"Oh no, nothing like that. I noticed you are currently out of a job and thought that you might like to join the Japan's NPA. The homicide division specifically." L paused there, somewhat awkwardly, before continuing, "You will be compensated highly for this venture."

Well, L was going to pay her for getting paid to work for the Japanese police. In spite of the fact that she had worked for the FBI and had been living in America for several years now. Not to mention Raye had a job with the FBI—and he wasn't leaving America any time soon. She had to wonder why L was coming to her. Just because she was unemployed—or was she the only one left on his calling list?

"Why?" Naomi asked, wanting to get to the point rather than get on a plane.

"There is a man there, Yagami Light. I'd like you to meet him."

That was Tuesday.

Saturday morning Naomi was on a plane to Japan, resume in hand, ready to be hired by the NPA.

It began on a Saturday, or so Matsuda said if anyone had asked him. Really, it had been going on for quite a while, but no one noticed until Saturday. L didn't notice until Saturday, anyway. And if L hadn't noticed, then no one could have.

* * *

><p>As NPA director, Matsuda created a first impression of respect in a lot of people. They missed the point. Matsuda wasn't director because he was impressive or good at his job; he was director because if he wasn't, then Light Yagami would be. When people claimed that the NPA had never been more efficient and that Matsuda was an unexpected surprise after the Kira case had killed off (or frightened off) the majority of policemen, what they really meant that was there had never been a police man quite like Light Yagami. They just didn't know that. The government and the people assumed that Matsuda did his job. He just did his best to make sure that things didn't get out of hand.<p>

On that particular Saturday, things got out of hand.

Matsuda had seen it coming. Matsuda wasn't an idiot; he just wasn't L or Light. But that was okay, because how many Lights or Ls could the world handle?

It had started a while after the Kira case. Once criminals were reassured that Kira wasn't coming back, and the cases started disappearing. At first it didn't seem to bother Light because Light wasn't interested so much in being entertained as in getting rid of scum, but things changed. L had stolen almost every case Light would have been assigned—except for the Japanese mafia. (For some reason L wouldn't touch Mello and his gang with a stick.) Light, therefore, had been stuck dealing with the mafia for a good two years. Even that had been fine. He hadn't been thrilled, but he had worked. The straw broke the camel's back when Mello took out a restraining order on him.

Matsuda had tried to talk to him, but sometimes trying to talk to Light was like trying to convince the vampire not to steal the virgin's blood—it just didn't always work out.

The Saturday that marked the beginning of L's misery was the day of the Interpol meeting, the one that Light had smilingly told Matsuda he wanted to attend. Matsuda had said yes because if he was going to take anyone, it was going to be Light. He just hadn't realized that Light would make public threats to the giant gothic L.

There they were, Matsuda and Light, sitting behind the small Japanese flag. Light watched the room carefully and Matsuda tapped his fingers, thinking about how everything was going so well. There had been a few heart attacks recently, slightly suspicious—even though Kira was five years ago, people were still jumpy. There was an Interpol meeting. L was invited.

L showed up. He didn't always show up; no one really knew how to contact him. But sometimes even he had the decency to know when not to deny an invitation. Watari was standing beneath the screen in his usual trench coat, eyeing the crowd suspiciously.

If Matsuda had looked sideways, he would have noticed Light seething.

"There is no new Kira. These heart attacks are due to another cause. They are merely a coincidence," L's robotic voice stated. "Is there anything else?"

Matsuda wondered how a robotic voice could sound quite so bored and exasperated. The miracles of science, he guessed.

"Yes, I have a question," Light Yagami said. It was then that Matsuda realized he should never have under any circumstances brought Light anywhere near L.

There was silence in the room as all the other representatives turned to view Light, who didn't seem bothered at all by the attention. That was a very bad sign.

"Yes, Japan?" L asked.

"Have you been trying to aggravate me for the past two years, or are you just an idiot?" Light asked calmly, leaning toward his microphone.

"…What?" L asked.

"You've stolen almost every single case on Japan that would have been worth my time. Every single case. I don't think you've realized what this means yet."

"…" Matsuda could practically hear the silence on L's end.

Matsuda hurriedly said, "Hey, Light, um, maybe you shouldn't…"

"Shut up, Matsuda. I'm talking." Light continued. "This means war. I am going to find out where you live and burn your house down with your children inside. I will tear your assets into confetti and dance as I watch the bleeding carcass of your reputation dragged across the floor. I don't care who you are or where you live. I will find you. So, the question is not so much if you feel intelligent or safe, but do you feel lucky? Well, do you, L?"

Matsuda did not wait to see if L felt lucky or not. He stood up and spoke into the microphone—it gave a grating screech, and he winced but talked anyway. "You'll have to excuse him—his sister is dying of… cancer, and he's had a terrible childhood and he will be going now…" Matsuda grabbed Light by the arm and proceed to walk him out of the room.

Light was smiling the whole time.

"What do you think you're doing?" Matsuda asked him once they were safely in the men's bathroom.

"Just letting L know the stakes we're playing. I wouldn't want him to not take this seriously," Light said.

"You can't just say things like that in an Interpol meeting, Light. I'm fairly sure L has friends in high places, or low places, or not good places."

"That sounds fun."

"No, it does not! What if he sends someone after you for this—what if you go to jail for this? You threatened to kill him!" Matsuda said in a screeching voice.

"I threatened to drag his reputation on the floor. Not murder him. Although if he does push things I might have to resort to drastic measures." Light sighed. "Are we going back anytime soon?"

"No drastic measures!" Matsuda said, remembering the last time and the money it had taken to make drastic measures disappear. "Light, listen. Next time he comes to Japan I'll try to negotiate and get you on the case—at least get you to work with him…"

"_That_ will not be necessary. I have plans for L."

Matsuda had a vision of L screaming and being dragged, bleeding, across broken shards of glass with three bullet wounds in his chest.

"Just relax, Light, let me work on this. I'll figure something out."

Light gave him that look, the look he had on the moment Matsuda became director, and the moment that Matsuda said how pretty Sayu was, and the moment that L first stole Light's case. Matsuda knew what that look meant. He did not appreciate it.

"A few weeks, please. Don't do anything drastic."

He didn't say stupid because Light being drastic wasn't the same as Light being stupid. It was, however, terrifyingly close.

Light just smiled. Matsuda knew that something horrible and unpreventable was going to happen to L, and that in two months he would be standing in the governor's office trying to explain why half of Tokyo was on fire.

The truly wonderful thing about destroying L's reputation was that it didn't have a marked beginning.

* * *

><p>Light was alone in his apartment when he had this rather anticlimactic thought. Light's thoughts tended in that direction, nowadays, but it didn't bother him as much as he thought it would. When Light was younger, before the Kira case began and ended, he had always thought he was going to be special. He was brilliant, he was gorgeous, he had ambition. He thought that was good enough. Kira had proved him wrong. Being special didn't just require brilliance or talent—it only needed opportunity. Kira had opportunity, even if he abused it. Light did not.<p>

This, he thought, was something L had yet to realize.

His apartment was, as usual, empty of people, food, entertainment, and heat. He flicked on the lights and tried to remind himself to get the heat going by the time he got back. There were stacks of newspapers and books he hadn't bothered to read on the table, as well as an unloaded gun. It was usually the gun, and not the state of the apartment, that frightened his mother. He sat down in the chair with a sigh, wondering what, after terrifying the living daylights out of the greatest detective in the world, he should do with his day.

Perhaps he had been too abrupt. Maybe subtlety was the better option. Perhaps he should have pressured Mello into sending a message. He knew they had connections; it was obvious from the way the blonde whore's eyes darted about whenever Light kicked down his door and mentioned that L had once again stolen the majority of the homicide cases in Japan. No, he wanted L to hear it from him personally. It wasn't war without a personal declaration or two involved.

Light had been destroying L's reputation for a long time—because for a long time he had known that L was something of a sham. Not to say he wasn't the greatest detective in the world, but rather that he wasn't the greatest man in the world. Anyone who was better at him mysteriously disappeared, then reappeared a few weeks later. Coil had been one of these—there had been others as well, but Light didn't bother to memorize their names. They were most likely decaying at the bottom of some forgotten river, anyway. Now, someone needed a case solved, they just went to L. There was no one else.

Light could be better than L, given the opportunity.

Light had patiently waited for his opportunity. He had attended high school, he had done well on exams, he had gone to college. Then Kira happened and something changed. The police began to die. Kira didn't like police. They got in the way, so he decided to kill them from the top down—that is, if they didn't quit first. The police had to display their names, L did not. Light began to work for the police during the case, saw the chaos first-hand and realized that he was tired of waiting for the opportunity. In the end, if he waited, he would find it, but L would find him too. L didn't give a damn about dead police.

If Light succeeded as L had succeeded, he would be marked for death.

Light smiled, reaching for the gun, remarking in his head again what a wonderful, long game it was—longer than anyone suspected. Things that long were guaranteed to be fun.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N:** Welcome again to A Study in Donuts. Please read and enjoy. Review, and there will be a special poem at the end of the next chapter. You know you want a special poem! (Thanks to everyone who's taking a look at this. Also, Death Note does not belong to us. Derp.)

* * *

><p>The fence of yellow caution tape and the cacophony of blue sirens warned the neighbors that not everything was well in the Takeshi household. If one were to look through the windows, however, they would not see blood dripping from the light fixtures or any such nonsense. Oh no. They'd see it pumping out of a fountain.<p>

It was rather ingenious, actually. The fountain was clearly homemade from every-day materials, and there was certainly no shortage of blood to supply it (the bodies made sure of that). In the fountain several whale and dolphin plushies floated on small inner tubes; harpoons stuck out of each one, soggy stuffing clung to everything, and there was some extravagant scripted detailing around the fountain's edges. It was actually rather pleasant and well-decorated—if one ignored the fact that it was a blood fountain.

Written on the wall in, again, blood was "Save the Whales!" The plea trailed off in hurried, furious agony, as if the writer were the stabbed whale painting his last words with a single bleeding flipper: "!...!...!...!"

This was the third time this had happened in two months. And whenever anything happened more than two times in two months, it meant that Matsuda was going to have hell to pay when Light Yagami didn't get the case because L had wanted it first. (Because that's what always happened with these things.)

Matsuda didn't think that either of them cared about whales. He wasn't even sure Light cared about people, really—it was probably more of a hobby. Matsuda knew that for the two of them, it was always who got the case first. Neither of them cared about _which_ case in the slightest.

It had started because of the Kira case. After Kira had killed almost every officer in the homicide division for standing against him, the police force had to do a lot of hiring. Fast. Light was around the building a lot anyway, and he was smart, so he was paid and told to shoot things. (It was now considered to be the most efficient recruiting process because Light was so successful.) Light hadn't gotten rolling until about three months later, when he shot six prostitutes and a grocer. The NPA was furious until they realized he'd just destroyed an entire smuggling ring. At that point, he started taking most of Japan's cases for himself. The other detectives didn't complain because they knew they would get shot if they did.

Then came L. Sometime later, L sent Matsuda a bucket of emails about the case of the disappearing cases. He wondered where they went, and if there was some secret hideout that Matsuda was being bribed to disguise. Matsuda had no idea what the hell he was talking about. L then wrote that he wanted his damn cases back. So, Matsuda told Light that he had to give up some of his cases so that L would stop sending him spam. Thus began the bidding war. Over every single long-term case in Japan.

Everything except the mafia. For some reason, L did not care at all about the mafia. Matsuda never figured that one out—Light said that it was one of things that you had to be there for, and also that it was probably because of the leather. Matsuda didn't know what leather had to do with anything. That was okay, though. (Light also mentioned something about transsexuals, which, combined with leather, just made Matsuda more sure that not knowing was the best course of action.)

Staring at the spluttering blood fountain and the butchered stuffed whales, Matsuda thus summed up the crime scene: "Oh god, what am I going to tell Interpol?"

Nobody seemed to know the answer to that question. Not even the whales.

* * *

><p>Naomi was not impressed by the director of the NPA. For one thing, he had one of those birds that took a drink from water every two seconds. He also had the singing bass fish on his wall, and a dancing hamster on his desk. His office might have been where knick-knacks go to die; it terrified her somewhat. He also was an idiot.<p>

"So, um, why do you want to work for the NPA?" Director Matsuda asked her with an awkward smile. He tapped his fingers on the desk and stared in wide-eyed paranoia at the door, as if he expected someone to burst through with an axe at any moment.

Naomi had decided before she came into the office that she did not want to tell the director of the NPA that she was only joining because she was being bribed by the greatest detective in the world (or, rather, the man who claimed the title, L—who wasn't very believable). She hadn't actually come up with a better reason for why she was interested in the job.

Improv time.

"…I missed shooting things."

Matsuda nodded and smiled. "Oh yeah, that's… Um. You'll get along fine here." He laughed and waved his hand awkwardly, causing the dipping bird to wobble.

Naomi had no idea how the hell she was supposed to respond to that, so she stared.

Now he was playing with his hair, which was in an awkwardly long haircut that made him look like a wannabe boy-band member. "Um, you like shooting moving things, right? Because the stationary things, well, that's great too, but you know, um, it's not really… moving things would be better."

Naomi really didn't know how to respond to that, either. She also noticed that Matsuda was now sweating, blinking, and looking at the door. The expression increasingly said, 'The axe murderer who was supposed to jump in through the glass is a little bit later than usual because he's rummaging up an even bigger axe. You don't mind waiting here while I hide under my desk, do you?'

"Yes, I hit moving things," she said slowly, wondering how the hell he got in that cushioned chair. Was this seriously their best officer?

Matsuda had continued to become more and more flustered as the conversation went on; Naomi was becoming more and more convinced that not talking was the best option. Sadly, he kept asking questions. "Oh, good, that's great. Um, how about other cops?"

"What?" Naomi wondered if shooting cops was supposed to be a good feature or a bad feature. She also wondered if L had fed him information about how she'd landed on the LABB case because she hadn't shot that thirteen-year-old drug dealer.

"Well, maybe not cops, but people—like people shooting. Like bad people. You shoot bad people, sometimes?"

The singing fish on the wall stared blankly at Matsuda with bulging, uncomprehending eyes. Naomi felt that she and the fish had a bond of mutual understanding.

"…Isn't that the point?"

"Well, I once met this guy who liked to shoot pigeons. A lot. And he was really good at it, but it just wasn't that helpful because this one time he was at this bank robbery and he died."

The wobbling bird joined in the staring. Naomi felt that she and the menagerie of awkward tacky inanimate objects had become close, life-long friends in the few minutes she had spent in the director's office.

"Did he have a gun?" Naomi asked, looking to her inanimate friends for support.

"No, but he had some pigeon feed. I think they shot him to prove a point. Or he tried to use a cellphone. I don't remember."

The moment of silence afterward was filled only with the sound of the bird dipping his head in the water over and over again. Matsuda began to tap his fingers on the desk again, stopped, stared at his hand as it had betrayed him and he was horrified, then glared briefly at the door.

Nothing came through. He smiled.

Naomi didn't even know what the hell that meant. "Do I have the job, now?"

Matsuda flustered himself into getting back on topic.

"What? Oh, yeah, I guess, but, um, I'm going to have to assign you to… You're not going to like it; no one likes it—well, one guy did, but he's dead, and no, even he didn't like it." A gigantic thud came from the other side of the door. Something cracked. "Oh, here he is now. Hi Light!"

Just at that moment someone burst through the door in a flurry of splinters and the loud, angry pops of strained hinges. "Damn you, Matsuda, I told you I wanted the whale case!" he shouted, aggressively waving a handful of paperwork.

Naomi wasn't sure if she wanted to turn around. But she wouldn't get paid if she didn't turn around. That meant she really needed to turn around and get it over with so that L could give her the money and she could file a restraining order against the bastard.

Naomi turned around.

She was confronted with a very angry-looking young man with blood stains on his shirt, bags under his eyes, and five o' clock shadow that looked like it'd been abandoned midway through a shave. The young man took up most of the doorway with his windmill arm-motions and his wad of crumpled papers.

Matsuda's grin had turned relieved as soon as he realized that his axe murderer had arrived sans axe. He now laughed awkwardly, running a hand through his hair. "Yeah, well, you know L. As soon as he heard there was a case in Japan he jumped on it. And when L says jump, we… jump? I don't know. You already pissed him off with the declaration of war—just let him have the case. Listen, Light, I'm working on revoking that restraining order of yours. Then you can pester the mafia all you want." With each word, Matsuda became more and more aware that Light was not going to listen to a word he said.

"L doesn't even like whales! No one cares about whales! I want my whale case, damn you! This isn't about whales—it's about work, and L screwing me over for the final time. You and I both know it." His sentences were punctuated by angry gesticulations of the paperwork. "And who the hell is the broad?"

Naomi guessed she was going to be the broad now. She lifted a hand in a slight wave. She also smiled somewhat painfully and had the feeling, for the first time, that she looked like she belonged in the director's office.

"This is Naomi Penber. She's your new partner," Matsdua said cheerfully. Light's gun was still in the holster. That meant things were going well.

Naomi blinked, took in the blood-stains, and realized just exactly what L was getting her into. She was not amused.

"I thought I didn't get new partners," Light said in exasperation (and also with a little bit of distaste). Naomi realized that he wasn't amused, either.

"Well, you do now." Matsuda paused. "She likes to shoot things," he added as an afterthought, as if that somehow made the whole situation better.

There was another awkward silence, this one filled with the man in the doorway sizing her up and staring at Matsuda as if he were the biggest idiot he had ever met.

"…Was that your interview question?"

"...You kids will have lots of fun," Matsuda said, dragging his smile to a disturbing width.

Light looked down at Naomi. "Did you at least show her the video?"

"What video?"

"The educational video I made _just for you_ after you complained that my partners had no idea what they were getting into. The video I gave to you. The video that should be in your office somewhere—if you haven't replaced it with a singing fish."

"Oh, um, yeah. That video. I know it's here somewhere…."

Light's recent words took a few moments for Naomi to process before she realized quite the extent of their meaning.

L was paying her to meddle with Light Yagami.

Light Yagami had made an educational video. An educational video on the dangers of being his partner.

L was paying her to meddle with a trigger-happy police officer who apparently got so many of his partners killed, maimed, or kidnapped that it necessitated an educational video.

Naomi looked at Matsuda, whose forced grin was so wide it looked LSD-induced. Naomi looked at Light's unkempt hair and angry posture, then again at the bloodstains. And, looking deeply into the eyes of the singing fish, who seemed to be doing a lot of disbelieving looking of his own, Naomi made her decision.

"…Let's see the video, then."

Naomi decided that it was time that she and Ryuzaki had a very long phone conversation.

* * *

><p>"And then someone's head fell off! I do not want my head to fall off! Do you understand, you selfish bastard!"<p>

L wasn't sure how Naomi Misora managed to get his number. He wasn't even sure it was possible, but she had, and she had been ranting for thirty minutes straight. He had no idea what she was even saying.

"You are not paying me nearly enough to be partners with a man who made a four-step demonstrational video detailing all the various explosion subtypes and the associated body part damage! Body part damage that will likely occur—_to me,_ not to him, in the next three to six months of being his partner! Also, he apparently is the cause of the explosions. Not just most of them. _All of them_. I need more money!"

L sighed and looked longingly at his silent sundae. The ice cream never screamed at him, and it was so delicious.

"What do you want, Misora?"

"Penber. I got married."

"My condolences."

There was a slight pause where Naomi evaluated the weight of his words and chose to ignore them.

"… It was four years ago…"

"Yes, well, did you want something?"

There was a brief moment of silence. L took it to mean that Naomi either was in awe of his genius or was staring at her phone in disbelief.

"Money. I demand compensation for the grievous injuries that I am assured I will possess by the end of this venture! And that's not including interest! And health insurance! I want health insurance!"

L reached for his sundae and thought for a moment. "Wouldn't you want to do this out of the goodness of your heart? Surely it will better mankind?"

There was another moment of silence where L surveyed his much more pleasant surroundings. Sprinkles to go on the sundae, syrup to go on the sundae (maple and chocolate), sugar cubes to go on the sundae…

Naomi spoke again. "…Hell no."

L sighed. "Well then, I can't give you money in good conscious until you become a decent person. I feel as if I'm donating to terrorism."

"YOU ARE DONATING TO TERRORISM!"

"Call back when you have a soul. Goodbye."

L hung up and began to eat his sundae.

—

Mello didn't think that Near ever had to put up with the shit that he had to put up with.

Light Yagami had made another calendar. He had made another calendar, and it was now being sold in erotica stores all over the country. Light Yagami had the nerve, after Mello had finally gotten a restraining order, to make another calendar.

"I am gonna kill that punk-ass bitch!" Mello declared to Matt, brandishing the calendar.

Matt merely stared, puffed on a cigarette, and said, "You look awfully good in January."

Mello sometimes wanted to rip Matt's goggles off his head and shove them down his throat. "Damn January! How the hell did he get these pictures?"

Matt flipped through his own calendar, which he had been keeping in his back pocket. Just what he had been doing with it, Mello wasn't sure he wanted to know. He'd think about that later—after he thought about the fact that Light Yagami had the nerve to make a calendar.

"Well, this one, I think, is from our security tapes. He must have hacked in sometime." Matt pointed to a picture of Mello, who shaved his legs in a candle-decorated bathtub. He wore a seductive glint in his eyes and a mysterious smile on his face.

"You said that no one could get through our firewall," Mello ground out through clenched teeth.

Matt shrugged. "Sure, but apparently our dear inspector Yagami is very motivated. And he is pretty good, you know."

"So what good is our firewall if it doesn't even work?" Mello screamed.

Matt again shrugged. "Well, it will keep out anyone, I think. Except apparently for him. I'll do some work tonight—look, it'll be no big deal."

"He has pictures of me looking like a whore!"

Matt looked puzzled. "Mello, you always look like a whore."

"That's not the point!" Mello screamed again, tearing at his hair. "The point is I don't want pictures in his possession of me looking like a slut!"

Matt flipped a few more pages in the calendar. "That one I think he took himself. Remember that one time he broke in with a camera and you were smothered in chocolate? I think this is from that time. It's a nice shot, you know. Maybe he should have become a photographer."

Mello often had to repress the urge to kill Matt. Sometimes it was very very hard. (It was also very hard to find good leather, but that was another story.)

"One day, I'm going to find that son of a bitch, and I'm going to pop a cap in his ass!"

"I think that would violate the restraining order."

—

Somewhere far, far away, a beluga wailed.


	3. Chapter 3

The alley was dark and the light of the street lamp hardly reached it. The walls were painted bright colors by graffiti-scrawl gang signs. Standing near a dumpster, three men and two women smoked cigarettes, watching the scene with interest. On the other side of the alley, a few more spectators leaned against the wall, staring intently at each other's money-filled fists. In between them, two dozen or so men growled and cheered, waving enthusiastic fists. They weren't there for the graffiti—but rather for the street fight.

The man on the ground had at least three broken ribs and his nose was bleeding. One eye was swelling shut, but was open enough to flinch away from the young woman leering above him with a lead pipe. He could no longer make out her features, but in that moment he would swear that she looked exactly like death with a blood-spattered face, puffing away on a cigarette.

It wasn't the first time she'd been underestimated and she really hoped it wouldn't be the last. Kicking the shit out of guys three times her size was just far too much fun—but if they didn't have that surprised expression on their faces, it just didn't feel the same.

After watching the groaning, bleeding hulk for a few more moments, she straightened up and nodded to the spectators. They took it as a sign to start sneering and exchanging bills. She glanced down at the lead pipe and noted that she'd have to clean it off once she was done surveying the damage.

Sayu Yagami really loved beating the shit out of people. Her parents hadn't been too pleased when she'd decided to make a living of it, but they could go to hell. They also hadn't been pleased about the five piercings in her ears, the blue hair, or the lead pipe. Clearly, they didn't know what was best for her.

Most people didn't bother to ask why Sayu did what she did. They just made bets and supplied her with some of the winnings afterwards. People had stopped asking questions when she started winning; there was something about a five foot two middle-class girl mowing through an entire street gang that just put off the question-asking sort.

However if someone did ask questions, she had already perfected her answer—after much thought and much internal searching and strife.

It was all Light's fault. It was hard being Light's younger, dumber, less good-looking and god-like sister. People kept expecting things of her that she just didn't have, and she was sick and tired of being looked over for mister perfect. Her parents didn't care because she was just a little less special, a little less perfect. It was hard living like that. She wasn't Light and she was never going to be Light. If she had to prove that with a lead pipe and blue hair, so be it; if she had a little fun along the way, that was great too.

Whether it really was Light's fault, she didn't know. She just said it was because it seemed like the easiest and best explanation. It seemed unlikely, but it was a great speech anyway. Also, she noticed that whenever she wanted to pick up a guy who was somewhat normal, he always seemed to be more attracted and interested after the troubled childhood speech.

She just left out the part where her parents were ashamed of her brother as well, and that no one who had met him in the last five years would even bother considering him the perfect man. In fact, anyone who had met him recently would laugh at her if she even tried the speech. The fact that Light was the biggest nutjob in the NPA didn't seem to fit in with the traumatizing childhood.

* * *

><p>"I don't understand how you can work for a man like that. If I were you, I'd reconsider my employment. You could work for the NPA—the official director may be an idiot, but unofficially I run the show, and I'd make sure you have a lot more fun."<p>

When L walked into his hotel room in Japan those were the first words he heard from a voice he knew only from a week ago. L knew then that he had severely underestimated the enemy.

Light Yagami was currently drinking tea with Watari, who had not even bothered to wear the trench coat—but instead just looked like an elderly English gentleman. Watari was holding a donut and sipping tea. He appeared to be very disconcerted.

L tried to analyze the situation but only came up with several minor conclusions. One, Light Yagami had managed to find out not only which hotel L was staying in, but also which room. Two, Light Yagami had managed to break and/or persuade his way into the room with Watari inside. Three, he brought donuts and tea, and was wearing a suit in order to look professional. This bit was of note only because all the reports said that Light Yagami usually showed up to business meetings with the mob's blood on his khaki pants. Clearly, he had an ulterior ulterior motive. Four, L was never going to stay in a hotel in Tokyo ever again.

"…William, who is this man?" L decided that it wouldn't hurt to pretend that he was a normal guest and had no idea what the hell was going on.

"William and I are discussing the terms of his employment and _by god_, I didn't realize that you actually looked like a meth addict. I thought that was just a rumor." Light smiled, put down his tea, and placed a frosted donut on a plate. "Donut?"

Watari looked at L with an awkward twitch and shrugged almost halfheartedly. L saw that it was going to be a long discussion before they managed to throw Light out of their apartment. L took the plate with the donut and tried to remember what smiling felt like.

"Is that so, and what may I call you?" he asked pleasantly, wondering if Watari had called 911—or at least security, yet—and what was taking so long.

"You know who I am. Also, I disconnected the phones, and William here isn't dumb enough to try the cell phone in his pocket, in case you were wondering why I'm here and not in the gutter." Light again gave that charming smile that L was growing to hate.

"Well then, since you appear to know who I am, and I know who you are, let's get down to business. How on earth did you find out where I was and who I was?"

Light set down his tea and brought his hands together. L was disturbed to see that there was what looked like partially washed blood on one hand. "Well, L, it's all about who you know and what you do."

L blinked and looked at Watari. "Is that it?"

"Basically. Of course, I had to do a bit of dirty work here and there—but nothing exceedingly difficult. Mostly it involved hacking into the various hotels' databases in Japan to see which occupant ordered the most room service and was the biggest slob. I followed the donut trail, so to speak."

L looked at his donut and looked back up at Light. He looked at Watari, then back to Light. L took a bite of his donut.

"I should e-mail your supervisor and have you fired," L said after much silence and donut eating.

Light then began to laugh cheerfully. The smile was a bit horrifying. "Oh, believe me, he's already tried."

That, L decided, was not a good sign. The longer that Light was in his hotel, the less he felt allowing it was a good idea. He decided to get to the point.

"What do you really want, Inspector Yagami?"

"I thought you'd never ask," Light said in mock exasperation. "I want to know why on earth you sent me Naomi Misora. You do know my track record with partners, I assume—the likelihood that you are going to get her killed is very high. I thought you should know that before you throw her to the wolves. Also, I felt you should know that the battle has begun and I've already launched the first attack. In five months, no one will use your services without laughing hysterically."

"Really? That's very interesting, Yagami-san."

"Yes, it is. My best work. Well, that's all I had to say for now. I'll drop by some other time. Ta."

Light then put down his tea and nodded to Watari, who nodded back. Light stood up and then made his way quietly out the door, leaving L standing, staring at the seated Watari.

"Watari, remind me later to have that man put on my hit list."

And that was all L had to say about that.

* * *

><p>Naomi was not thrilled with the turn of events. She was sitting in an unmarked police car, waiting for Light Yagami to finish drinking his coffee so that they could high-tail it to wherever the hell he was going. He hadn't said anything, Matsuda hadn't said anything—as far as Naomi knew, they hadn't been assigned a case and the NPA just let Light do whatever he wanted. Naomi was beginning to find that her interview answers to Director Matsuda was a self-fulfilling prophecy: she did miss shooting things.<p>

"Are you done yet?" Naomi asked Light irritably out the open window. He was still leaning against the car door with that creepy smile on his face and a cup of coffee that was probably cold by now.

"Most people aren't that eager after seeing the video," Light commented after taking a sip of his coffee. She hoped it tasted like garbage.

"Well, I took the job expecting I would do something other than watch you drink coffee." Naomi looked away and watched the empty street outside of the windshield. She wondered when the last time was that he washed his car; from the look of it, soap hadn't touched the car for at least a month.

"If you insist," Light said, and threw the empty cup over his shoulder into the open dumpster. He clapped his hands together and turned toward the car with a charming smile that would have looked fantastic on anyone but him.

Naomi began to regret ever working with L as soon as Light took his place in the driver's seat. Not because he drove badly, but because he drove too well—like he thought about every single thing on the street. Nobody real drove like that.

Naomi decided to distract herself by finding out what the hell was going on. "So, are we going somewhere?"

"Yes," Light responded, checking his rearview mirror.

"Anywhere specific?"

"Intelligence. I've been prevented from tormenting Mello directly, and as a result there's really nothing left for me to do but solve the whale case. As long as I have free time, I might as well do something productive."

Naomi nodded and said, "Oh, well, being productive is always wonderful, but since I will be working with you, would you mind telling me what the whale case is?" More importantly, did it have anything to do with whales at all? Because she really wasn't fond of whales. There was something about their morbid obesity…

Light turned right down an alley that didn't look friendly in the slightest. Naomi got a dreadful feeling in her stomach, rather like a rock, and started to regret she hadn't just punched Matsuda in the face. She could have said she was done being L's puppet, payment or no payment—why had she not thought of that before now?

"Oh, just some PETA idiot committing homicide because this is Japan and the Japanese don't care about whales or fish. Just another nut-job who happens to have the materials and a knowledge of engineering thorough enough to construct a miniature blood fountains."

"Whales aren't fish," Naomi pointed out as she watched the walls fade from dark grey to fuchsia as more and more graffiti ate the cement.

"I don't care. It shouldn't take too much time—if he's preoccupied enough to make a blood fountain, he must be an idiot. Probably will finish in a couple of days. But we may run into a bit of violence, so be prepared," Light explained as he continued to barrel at full speed down a street with an increasing supply of pot holes and gang signs.

"If this man is a whale-fanatic, why on earth would the drug lords know anything about him?" she asked skeptically as she eyed the people who were eyeing her from their porches. They no doubt had shotguns hidden behind their chairs.

"He's probably a drug addict, but I'm not coming here for the drug lords." Light turned to her and smiled mysteriously before pulling to a stop on the side of the road.

Naomi really hoped that she wasn't here to wait for Light Yagami to have sex in a brothel. She just might have to kill him—and then what would she say to L? Although, considering the last time L had her work a case for him, he might actually want Light's bleeding corpse in some dumpster—in which case she could only make L suffer by keeping Light alive. That could prove too difficult.

"You better not be coming here for the sex," Naomi said as Light unbuckled and made his way out of the car.

For some reason Light burst out into hysterical, breathless laughter, began to lean against his car, and didn't stop for a minute. She timed him. He looked at her and then he started laughing again. She was pretty sure there were tears coming out of his eyes. She was briefly thankful that she never had to deal with L in person.

Naomi decided it was high time she got out of the car, loaded her gun, and got the show on the road.

As soon as she stepped out of the car, they began to walk down a dark alley with absolutely no streetlights. There may or may not have been dismembered bodies lining the walls. Naomi was beginning to feel very glad she had loaded her gun. They stopped at a red door with rusted paint that seemed to be missing a 'do not enter' sign. Light knocked three times.

A booming voice resounded from the inside: "Password?"

Light smiled. "I have a warrant!"

There was a slight pause that lead Naomi to wonder if that was really the password. But the door eventually opened, and Light stepped in. Naomi followed quickly afterward with gun in hand, giving the guy sitting on the bar stool a steely glance. He didn't look armed, which was something good, at least.

"You sure you aren't looking for a heroin dealer?" Naomi asked under her breath, but Light just waved the question off with a stained hand. He stopped walking and looked around the room as if searching for someone in particular.

"Oh shit!" someone yelled from the pool table. Naomi twisted and brought up the gun, ready to shoot, but Light clamped his hand on it.

"Please don't shoot my informants," he said with that crawling, creepy smile. It was starting to give her mental images of maggots crawling over the piles of corpses he probably kept in his parents' basement.

They were looking at a young woman in a dark tank-top and leather pants. What was perhaps her most interesting feature was not the tattoo on her shoulder or the five silver piercings in her ear, but the fact that her hair was dark blue. All of it. Not even stripes. She had dyed her hair indigo and appeared to like it. The entirety of her ensemble, face included, seemed to be scowling at Light in distaste. She didn't look interested in returning to her pool game if it meant she had to stop scowling. Naomi lowered her gun and stepped behind Light, waiting for him to make the first move.

"I'm not your bitch!" she snarled after a lengthy bit of silence. Then she added, "What the hell do you want, anyway?"

"Sayu, can't I just come to see you anymore? We never talk," Light said, walking smarmily forward to the pool table. Her scowl got angrier.

"Who says we ever talked?"

Light nodded somewhat sympathetically and leaned against the pool table. His fingers tapped the green. It was somehow unbelievably creepy. "True, but most people don't admit their relationship issues. How are you? Still street-fighting?" Light kept up his slimy smile. Sayu poked her pool stick at the air aggressively and returned back to her game, attempting ignore him.

"If you have something to say, you better say it—or I will kick the shit out of you." She said something else under her breath, but Naomi didn't catch it.

As far as Naomi could tell, Sayu was Light's former girlfriend and the relationship had been messy. No doubt there had been broken plates and bullet holes—it was a wonder the two of them were even standing. Unless Light was just so amused by her that he let her live only as an excuse to torment her for the rest of her life.

Light was grinning like the Cheshire cat with catnip. He pulled out of his suit-jacket a newspaper. On the front cover was a picture of a harpoon-shishkabobbed whale floating in a bloody pond. Sayu's black (and very not-blue) eyebrows raised.

"Whales?" she asked.

"Don't look at me. Homicide is a delicate business undertaken for many reasons. Apparently, whales are one of them." Light asked, "Do you know anything about him?"

"And if I do?" Sayu said.

"Well, we could do this the easy way or the hard way." Light closed in on the young woman, leering over her as her stick hit the white ball. He was still smiling. Naomi was really beginning to doubt that Light hadn't come for the sex.

"You wouldn't," she said. Light just continued to smile. "You know if you do it to me, I'll do it to you."

Naomi really didn't want to think the missing word was rape, but she wasn't coming up with any other answer.

"I'm prepared for that," Light said calmly. Naomi really was starting to regret thinking about Light's sexuality at all.

"Fine. There's no way in hell I'm going to explain the new tattoo to Dad, even if I do get to watch you explain the Interpol fiasco."

Naomi blinked. All her assumptions were thrown down the drain, and she noticed that she was very confused. She opened her mouth, closed it, thought for a moment, and opened it again. "Who are you?" she asked the woman with the blue hair.

"This is Sayu Yagami, my little sister," Light introduced the woman, who raised and lowered her pool stick with a smile.

"…You're related?"

They shrugged. "I got the good genes," Sayu said after an extended pause, during which Light looked oddly gleeful. She turned back to Light, "I know, surprisingly, a lot, considering the guy is only interested it whales and not in narcotics. He squats in an abandoned apartment a couple streets down—keeps his whale plushies there and everything. Not there all the time, though; you'd have to stake him out, but he'll show up sometime." Sayu sighed and tapped her fingers on the pool table. "You know, if we're going to talk about dirt, you should at least pay me."

"The blackmail wasn't enough?"

"A gentleman would bribe, too."

Naomi wasn't sure how she got involved in this conversation at all. She also wondered if the rest of Light's family was insane, or if it had skipped a generation. And if so, she wondered how nuts his grandparents would be. Light dug some bills out of his pocket and placed them on the table.

"He lives on 124th, brown apartment building, third window up—the one with the broken windows—turn the corner and you're right there. Now shove it!" Sayu pushed her brother away from the table and stuffed the bills into her pocket before turning back to pool.

"We'll be in touch," Light said, waving to his little sister and nodding for Naomi to follow him. He began to whistle a jaunty tune as they made their way to the car; he smiled over at Naomi. Naomi just stared back.

According to the educational video, she was just lucky nothing had exploded yet.

* * *

><p>Soichiro woke up sweating in the middle of the night. There had been fire in his dreams, and body parts, and, for some odd reason, cauliflower. His wife was still sleeping soundly, and he sighed. He tried to convince himself it was all a dream, but the thought wouldn't leave his mind. Somehow, he knew that he and his children were going to have a reunion sometime soon, and he knew that it was going to be horrible.<p> 


	4. Chapter 4

Matsuda knew it had gotten bad when L insulted Light Yagami via public broadcasting. Matsuda was beginning to wonder if L used letters, like a normal person. Or what about e-mail? Did he really have to interrupt every news station in Tokyo just to make Light's life difficult? It was juvenile, really. Sure, Matsuda wasn't always Light's number one fan, but it had never even occurred to him to embarrass him over national television, ever. Mainly because he'd find a bomb in his desk the next day.

Matsuda had been watching the news and petting his cat, Fluffy. However, his wonderful news-watching, cat-petting extravaganza was interrupted. Not by a tsunami warning or a nuclear plant failure drill, or anything, really, that calmed Matsuda with its repetitive, expected nature. No, nothing so reassuring. It was instead interrupted by the giant gothic L and the robot voice that had always reminded him of the Terminator.

"I recognize that my interruption of public broadcasting would be illegal in most cases. However, this is an urgent broadcast that impacts all spheres of public safety. I understand that for some people, I am a role model. Such a legally ambiguous action is likely shocking. For those of you whose foundations of faith in the human race are shaken by this action, get over yourselves and find a more suitable role model. In person most people think I'm a heroin addict. This is a matter of public concern. It needs to be addressed, no matter the means. Additionally, I paid every single news station to air this message. So it's not as illegal as you think it is."

Matsuda was getting more anxious with every single word L uttered. He brought out his cellphone and tried to think of who to call. Normally, he'd call Light—but he had the distinct feeling that Light would just laugh hysterically and say that everything was going according to plan. Which, knowing Light, it probably was. He thought some more. The old chief probably wouldn't appreciate the phone call; he didn't like to be disturbed on Light-related business. Matsuda scrolled through his contacts until he found one that he had completely forgotten about.

He blinked when he saw the name; the memories came rushing back and he began to smile. Matsuda had made a very good decision when he had hired Naomi Misora.

He began to call and listened to the ring tone, also keeping an ear on L's televised speech.

"I'm here to talk about a certain Inspector Yagami Light's sex life. I was going to talk about his childhood, that embarrassing Christmas party, or that time with that hooker in that gas station, but I thought this would be more appropriate." L paused as if smiling or laughing to himself; the result was that the mechanistic voice seemed inappropriately quiet. Matsuda had an inexplicable mental image of Arnold Schwarznegger kicking a small kitten who looked alarmingly like Fluffy.

Matsuda got up and began to pace, muttering, "Pick up, pick up, pick up—come on, Naomi, I know you want to pick up." Fluffy meowed, but he ignored her and began to tear at his hair.

"You see, recently, I've discovered that inspector Yagami is hiding a secret. In the closet, so to speak. Light Yagami is not only a homosexual, but he is also in love with a transvestite named Mello. This has now become a matter of public concern because Light Yagami was caught not only taking erotic photographs of poor Mello, but has also sold them in a calendar called 'M'. It's just despicable, what he's done, and I want you people of Japan to understand: if you buy a single calendar, you are subscribing to Yagami Light's twisted hooker fetish. The collateral abuse of Mello is simply appalling. While I can't take up a case on this, I can publically condemn everything Light has done to torment Mello. Any accompanying public outrage would be unfortunate, but completely condoned."

Matsuda almost dropped the phone when he turned to see Light Yagami's face on national television. It was a casual photo, one Matsuda had no idea how L would manage to get a hold of. Light was staring off into the distance vacantly, wearing aviators. It didn't make Light look recognizable so much as ridiculous. Matsuda guessed that was kind of the point.

"People of Japan, if you are to see this man, I want you to remind him what a horrible, sick person he is. I want you to spit in his face and shove him in the gutter, and then I want you to step on him. The sexual purity of Japan depends upon it. I do hope that you enjoy the rest of the scheduled programming and that you forgive my incredibly rude interruption."

The L on the television winked out and the news station returned, but Matsuda's cellphone was still ringing as he waited for Naomi Misora to pick up.

* * *

><p>Naomi Misora was getting very bored, but even intense boredom didn't justify the fact that she had sunk so low as to play Go Fish with Light Yagami. (Poker wasn't fun with only two people.)<p>

Naomi sighed and looked out the window, across the street, and through the rain to the empty apartment where the whale plushies waited.

"Are you absolutely sure your sister wouldn't just make this up in order to screw us over?" Naomi finally asked.

Light laid down two of his cards. For a moment he looked like he was going to say something important. Then: "Do you have any threes?"

"I'm serious. We've been sitting here for twelve hours. What's the likelihood that we are completely wasting our time?" Naomi didn't want to get in a gun fight with Light Yagami, but if she had to spend one more hour with him, she wasn't sure she would actually care anymore. She missed Raye; Raye was so normal compared to these people.

"I'm serious, too. Do you have any threes?" Light asked again.

"No. Now answer my question!"

"You didn't say 'Go Fish'. I get the feeling that you're not into the game," Light mused. "Would you like to play something else?"

Naomi didn't say anything and just looked at Light. After a moment of awkward staring, Light laid his hand face down and began to talk. "Sayu knows better than to try to trick me so bluntly. She learned that lesson the last time."

"…She's your sister."

"Oh no, I didn't beat her. Not my style, Naomi. I just told Dad that she was dating a heroin dealer. She was sent to rehab."

Naomi paused. "Is Sayu a heroin addict?"

"No, but it was still hilarious." Light grinned. "Sayu knows that it's worth it to just tell me where the whale-man is rather than just bullshit me in the hope that I won't notice or care. Because I will notice, and she will be screwed."

Naomi turned to look at the apartment across the street. "Did anyone ever tell you that you have major family problems?"

Just at that moment, Naomi's cellphone began to ring. She pulled it out of her pocket and looked at the caller I.D. "Matsuda?" she said in surprise. "He does know we're on a stake-out, right?"

"Don't answer it," Light said, and then paused to explain. "It's just Matsuda being stupid."

Naomi looked at the phone dubiously, wondering if she wanted to take Light's advice in anything. He thought his sister being sent to rehab was funny—probably not the most reliable guy. Matusda may have been an idiot, but perhaps he was going to warn her last minute that, "Oh by the way, Light is a vampire overlord, so he might drink your blood and leave your carcass in a dumpster. Hope you have silver bullets!"

Naomi listened to the vibrations for a few minutes, wondering why they didn't stop. She looked at Light. Light glared. Naomi pressed talk. "Hello?"

"Naomi, did you see the news just now?" Matsuda screamed into the phone. Naomi looked over at Light, who was looking more exasperated by the minute. She wondered if Light's other bloody carcasses had been found and took a sideways glance at Light, who seemed unfazed.

"Matsuda, Light and I are kind of on a stake-out right now. Of course I haven't seen the news." She was beginning to wonder if stake-out was some sort of sick, unwitting pun on her part. Especially since she hadn't actually brought the necessary wooden stakes to defend herself.

"Oh, well, L's done it this time! I mean, I knew they were at war, but they've never done this before! This is bad, really bad! The big bad of badness!"

Naomi paused. Light apparently wasn't a vampire, which was good news.

"Did L slaughter Light's relatives?"

Light started at that and asked, "Did L slaughter who?"

"What? He did what?" Matsuda asked in stark terror.

"No, did he?" Naomi asked. "I assume it was really bad, like you said, and knowing L, really bad would be murdering Light's entire family."

Matsuda paused and awkwardly chuckled. "Oh no, nothing like… L came onto national television! And he talked about Light's, um, his, um, sex life!"

Naomi paused and looked over at Light, who looked back with a tilted head. "Light has a sex life?"

"That's not the point! It's spread to national television! The war has spread to national television! Next is blowing things in Tokyo up! It's getting worse!"

Naomi hung up on Matsuda and looked over at Light.

"I told you, it's just Matsuda being stupid."

* * *

><p>Light was getting extremely bored.<p>

He had resorted to imagining what it would be like to finally shove Matsuda's thick head on a sharpened wooden spike. Aside from being bloody and somewhat disgusting and unnecessary, he was getting the feeling that it would be more fun than a stake-out on a so far empty apartment.

At this rate, he was starting to think he might get cabin fever. That was a whole new problem to tackle.

Light dragged his arm over his eyes and sighed, wishing that he had decided to become a doctor instead of a policeman. Then he wouldn't have to deal with Matsuda or whale cases or L or his sex life ever again. Though, he couldn't shoot things as often.

"Naomi, please tell me he's home," Light said when he heard a car pull up to the curb.

Naomi paused. "Actually, yes, I think this is our man. …Why does a squatter have a car?"

Light removed his arm and looked out the window to a man whose car had been spray-painted with whales of all shapes, sizes, and positions. They leaped, they dived, they swam, they smiled, they blew… Light looked over to Naomi. "That's almost too obvious."

"He harpoons people and makes blood fountains with whales. I don't think he's doing this because he thinks he's subtle."

"Touché."

Light and Naomi peered over the window and surveyed the man as he got out of his car. Naomi glanced sideways at Light. "Do you have a warrant?"

"No, don't need one. We'll wait."

Naomi turned to look at him. "What if he doesn't come out? I mean, clearly this guy is insane. It could be days before he leaves again."

Light shrugged. "I doubt very much that he has whales in this dump. He'll leave."

"Just because he has whales painted on his car and whale plushies in his apartment, and he murders in the name of whales, does not mean that he absolutely needs whales where he lives."

"I'm running with the theme, Naomi. Give him time." Light held up his hand and brought out his gun.

"We've been here all day. I will be damned if I spend another moment in this hell hole!" Naomi whispered, bringing out her own gun.

"And one wonders how you made it through the LABB case with that attitude," Light muttered.

Naomi set down her gun. "Beyond Birthday's main goal was lighting himself on fire. He did not care about my presence or my attitude in the slightest. And believe me, I wasn't thrilled to be there, either…." Naomi trailed off and muttered something about jam and rolling on the floor and long useless conversations with L. She didn't want to think about how Light had found out about that so quickly.

The man came stumbling out of the building, his dropping more of his armful of plushies, several pumps, and a basin with every step.

Light smiled. "What did I tell you. The man needs whales."

"I thought you were supposed to obey traffic laws when you work for the national police department," Naomi commented calmly while she clutched the side of the car, white-knuckled, as Light tore after the whale van. Everything she had said about Light being a good driver was thrown out the window. She had no idea how she'd been so thoroughly duped.

How had it come to a car chase after a man who killed in the name of whales? Where had she gone wrong? Why had she not committed suicide yet?

"I take them into consideration," Light responded, veering left after the whale car as it attempted to speed into the distance.

"Like hell." Naomi pulled out her gun and leaned out the window. "At least try to drive straight so I can shoot the tires."

"Pretty sure shooting tires in the middle of a car chase is illegal." Light swerved away from the oncoming traffic; Naomi found herself in the back seat. "I wonder where he's going, anyway? Tokyo isn't exactly the greatest place for a car chase."

"Yes, but the sooner I stop that car, the less likely you are to crash into a streetlamp. I thought I said to drive straight, you bastard!"

Light swerved again and then ran the red light in order to follow the whale trail.

It was probably the Beyond Birthday fiasco that had ruined her life, but that had happened because she hadn't shot a junkie. So if she went back far enough, she was in this position because she had morals. Naomi's moral values had gotten her stuck in a car that rushed toward certain death, chasing after a car graffitied with a giant whale mural.

"Oh, I almost forgot," Light said and brought up his cellphone.

Damn morals.

"I thought you were driving!" screamed Naomi.

"Family policy." Light began to dial on his phone, looking down for a moment. The car drifted onto a sidewalk, frightened five pedestrians, and rolled over a trashcan before he looked up. The phone began to ring.

"Who the hell could you be calling now? Who is that important?"

Light held up his finger and listened to the ringtones. Then his face brightened. "Hello, Dad, thought I'd check in. How are things?"

There was a slight pause as Light barely made a right hand turn, avoiding a high rise apartment by half an inch. "That's great. Tell mom I said hello. Well, I just called to tell you that I have a new partner. That's right. Yes. No. Yes. Yes. Dad, please show a little faith—I can practically hear your disappointment."

They turned into what looked like a ship yard. Naomi was getting a vague but unfortunate idea of where they were headed.

"Light, we have a slight problem," Naomi said, pointing to the car as it began to speed toward the end of the pier. "I think he's going to go for it."

"No, Dad, I did not make that calendar… Someone else must have gotten that footage; I don't know who. Even if I did, they gave him a restraining order. He's a drug lord and they let him get a restraining order against a law official. What was I supposed to do, sit there? Yes? Well, good thing I didn't do it, then." Light trailed off, completely ignoring Naomi.

"Light, can't you hang up or something? We're going to lose him." She had given up on shooting the tires after her gun ended up under the driver's seat.

"Well, I did become a police man. I could have become a surrealist painter, you know. I did follow in your footsteps and I am very good at my job…. Oh, sorry Dad, breaking up, going through a tunnel. Can't hear you. Have to call back later. Yes. Mmmmmm. Right. Bye." Light clicked the end button and refocused his attention on driving.

But it was too late. There went the whale car over the pier. Light brought his car to a screeching ten-foot stop. Both he and Naomi got out.

They looked at the slowly sinking whale plushies and turned to each other. "I guess we could swim after him," Naomi said slowly.

They watched as the whale man crawled out of his car and flailed, shrieking. When he found his swimming groove, he immediately scooped up the whale plushies. Because he had to save the whales.

"Be my guest." Light said, "We can get him later. Now that he doesn't have a car, we'll look for the stuffed whale salesman."

"I'm serious!"

"So am I. He's going to have to carry all that shit himself, now. It's going to be very conspicuous."

"No, he wouldn't… My God, he might."

The serial killer swam off into the distance. The whales trailed after him.

* * *

><p><strong>Scourge's Note: WILL THEY CATCH THE WHALE KILLER? HOW MANY MORE INNOCENT VICTIMS WILL HE CLAIM? AND HOW MUCH BLOOD WILL OCCUR AT THE YAGAMI FAMILY DINNER?<strong>

**Thanks for reading, reviewing, and caring about the answers to ridiculous questions like that. You guys are excellent.**


	5. Chapter 5

**Hi guys. We have a couple more chapters coming in the next month. Thanks for reading and reviewing! (Despite our slowness. XD)**

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><p>Matsuda was sitting in his office, watching his singing fish in envy. Surely his singing fish never had to deal with this madness. He wasn't even sure why it got sent to him; it was probably a joke. Or maybe they gave him Light's mail in case there was a bomb. Somehow, they always knew what belonged to Light—well, because it was addressed to Light, but sent through the police department. Matsuda really didn't get it. Light did have an apartment; they could send it there.<p>

He had been ignoring the messages from the traffic department for the last hour. Not that the angry phone calls were anything new: Light usually racked up about five or so a week. Matsuda just wasn't used to fifteen. In one hour. Most of the phone calls normally came from women in bars who had tried to get Light's number—for some reason he always gave them Matsuda's office number. Maybe because he worked so much, he figured he'd be at work more than he would be at home. Either way, that wasn't too bad. But this time, they were from rights lobbyists. And those phone calls were terrifying.

Matsuda heard Naomi and Light walk into the room, bickering with each other rather loudly. This was weird because most of Light's partners were either too intimidated or too dead to talk back to him. Matsuda stuck his head out of the doorway of his office to watch them walk in.

The first thing he noticed was that Light wasn't covered in blood. Which was kind of rare, and on first instinct a good thing, but it usually meant things hadn't gone well. Naomi wasn't covered in blood, either. Matsuda kind of thought she'd be happy about it—but she didn't look particularly happy, either. As they got closer, Matsuda began to make out their conversation.

"No," Naomi said, looking straight ahead with her hands in her pockets.

"I'm afraid it's unavoidable. Family tradition," Light said with a wave of his hand, looking slightly more gleeful than usual. Light was a big proponent of schadenfreudre, and indeed, as Naomi's misery increased, Light's smile lifted as if he were a young child hugging a stuffed whale.

"Why am I involved in your family traditions?" Naomi asked extremely loudly, causing more heads to poke out of side rooms and cubicles.

"It's supposed to make me feel responsible for your safety and wellbeing," Light explained casually.

"Oh, I'm sure it works wonders. I can just see it now: dysfunction junction in dinner form, you on my right, Sayu on my left. We're eating dinner and suddenly it happens—you are cursed with a soul. Now you are in love with me and your greatest goal in life is to keep me alive at all costs, even to the point of martyrdom. So when I get kidnapped by the whale-man, you get yourself harpooned in order to save me and die a very bloody horrible death. Is that how it's supposed to work? Gypsy curses? Because Light, I don't know any gypsies!" Naomi stopped walking and looked away from Light with her hands still in her pockets, her face turning red as her anger simmered.

Light appeared to ponder that for a moment. He had stopped walking as well, and was now staring at the ceiling. "I've never heard it put quite like that before, but yes, I'm sure my mother hopes that you and I will get married."

Naomi's face paled dramatically. "Dear God, I wasn't serious…" She shuddered and backed away from Light. "You know, now I'm even more determined not to come." Naomi began to walk in the opposite direction out of the building, but Light grabbed her shoulder.

Matsuda blinked, because, well, it was so weird. But Matsuda swore he had seen that exact same position between a man and a woman on the cover of a romance novel. Only, if it was a romance novel, Light would have been shirtless and Naomi would have been wearing a dress. They were looking at each other with that same passion, though. Matsuda had to check to make sure. He ran to his desk and grabbed out a novel, holding it in front of him as he examined the detectives. Light held Naomi in place, both of them looked into each other's eyes, Light smiled, Naomi looked up…

"Naomi," Light said in a voice that Matsuda could swear was husky, "you are coming to this dinner."

Naomi didn't say anything, struck speechless by the sweltering look in Light's eyes. She just stared at him as if there wasn't anything else in the world.

"I have a gun and I can shoot you between the eyes before you have a chance to blink, rapist pig."

Matsuda fell on the floor outside of his office, causing Light to turn around with Naomi still in his arms. Both Naomi and Light looked down at the NPA director, who was trapped on the floor.

"What's wrong with him?" asked Naomi. Light didn't say anything, but instead looked into empty space as if Matsuda didn't even exist. Probably because Matsuda had ruined the mood, well, after… That didn't make any sense. Matsuda laughed awkwardly and stood up. He ran a hand through his hair but then discovered that he had put in hair gel that morning. Thwarted, he shook it out and looked at Light and Naomi with a smile.

"Hey guys, it's too bad you lost the crook," Matsuda said, trying to shift the focus off himself. Naomi and Light just continued to stare at him.

"Well, he's a rather fast swimmer," Naomi said with a sigh and looked over at Light. "Can you let me go now?"

Light released Naomi and Matsuda felt as if a great opportunity had been lost on Light's part. He'd have to tell Light to try again later. All the romance novels said the woman always hated the man at first—she'd fall with time. Matsuda gave him a look of sympathy, to which Light only glared. Right. The great womanizer Light Yagami didn't need sympathy. Matsuda changed his expression to encouraging.

"We'll get him," Light said with a wave of his hand. "How's my restraining order coming along?"

"Well… It's coming…" Matsuda didn't want to be the one to tell Light that it wasn't going well at all. The judge completely thought Light deserved it, even if Mello was a mob boss. And Matsuda couldn't exactly bring himself to disagree, although telling this to Light would result in loss of limbs. He decided to change topic. "Oh Light, there's a, um, package for you…"

Light's eyebrows raised; he walked into the office before letting out a harsh laugh. Naomi looked at Matsuda and Matsuda realized just how scary she was. She had not only survived a car ride with Light, but talked to him afterward. The way she was looking at Matsuda now—it looked just like Light when he was anticipating a nice slaughter… They were meant for eachother.

"This is wonderful!" Light said, carrying what looked like a bouquet of harpooned stuffed whales with red paint on their sides. He was grinning like a little boy given a bright red bicycle on Christmas.

"Well, I know I've always wanted a bunch of dead whales," Naomi said to Matsuda.

"What?" Matsuda asked, looking from her to the whales.

"Never mind, don't tell me it's from our man." Naomi pinched the bridge of her nose and shook her head. "I honestly never want to hear a word that man has to say. You can tell a lot about a man from his car. Quite a lot."

"Oh no, then it'd be put into evidence. This is from L."

Naomi looked up and stared at the bouquet. "L sent you a bouquet of harpooned whales… Why?"

Light's grin only grew more childish and wider, and he laughed. "He thinks he's clever and it's hilarious. Matsuda, do you realize what this means?" Light asked, looking directly at Matsuda, who felt that familiar fear for his soul.

"…No?" Matsuda suggested slowly.

At that moment, Light looked out toward the window, and the light fell onto him like a shroud of holy light—as if he were a god. His smile grew tranquil and he said, "It's going to get even worse, and you will get even more mail in far worse form."

Matsuda gulped and decided to change the conversation in order to put off the inevitable worsening of situations. He hoped. "So you guys were talking about a dinner? I think that's great!"

Naomi cocked her head and looked at Matsuda. "Would you like to come, Matsuda?"

"What? Well I…" Matsuda trailed off and looked at Light. "Can I?"

"No," Light said.

"Yes, he can. Think of it as a new family tradition. Invite your new partner and your director. That way it's more of a team-building thing and you can feel even more joy and love for the people around you. Matsuda, you should come. It will be a lot of fun." In that moment, Naomi smiled just like Light. Matsuda began to fear for his soul again. He rubbed his hands together and looked to his office where his safety taser had been left behind.

He looked to Naomi and to Light, wondering which of them he should fear more. He decided that since he didn't know what Naomi was capable of, he shouldn't get on her bad side first.

He grinned. "I'd love to come!"

* * *

>Sayu hated when Light got a new partner. Whenever Light got a new partner, she had to show up at home. Whenever Sayu showed up at home she had to face the lecturing wrath of her parents and their stares of disapproval. Whenever her parents disapproved of her she got the sense that somewhere out there Light was in hysterics. Sayu hated her family sometimes, she hated them quite a bit.<p>Not to mention that every time Light got a new partner, they either thought she was a heroin dealer or a slut. They usually found out the difference pretty fast—usually after they woke up bleeding in an alley. The woman was no different; she kept her gun pointed at Sayu the whole time. Who the hell did she think Sayu was? Sure, Sayu probably could have beaten the shit out of her and would have enjoyed it, but that didn't mean she had to keep the gun locked on Sayu's back. Some people just had no manners.<p>

She showed up at the door and rang the doorbell, then stood, waiting for the door to open and for her mother to sigh as she viewed the blue hair. It had actually been black last time, but Sayu was bored with black—it was a blue year.

Light couldn't have just killed the sucker already. He had to play mister nice guy for once in his life and actually leave her alive after twenty-four hours.

The door opened; surprisingly, it wasn't her mother who answered, but Director Matsuda of the NPA. "Hi Sayu! Wow! Your hair is really blue!" He smiled, and Sayu remembered why she hated him.

There was once a time when Light was still loitering around the NPA building in search of anything to relieve his boredom when Matsuda had thought Sayu was very pretty. There was also once a time when he had visited their house and had very awkwardly let Sayu know that he thought she was pretty. That was before the lead pipe, which was probably why Matsuda was still breathing.

She just stared at him and blinked, waiting to actually be let her into the house. He didn't move—just kept staring and smiling, his cheeks growing redder by the minute. Then he began to laugh. Sayu just kept staring, wishing she had thought ahead and brought her lead pipe.

"It looks good!" Matsuda finally said, looking down, then looking up and then laughing.

"I thought Light killed you," Sayu said finally, grabbing the door and shoving Matsuda out of the way.

Matsuda laughed awkwardly; he was always awkwardly laughing. "Yeah, well, no he hasn't. Your brother's not that bad, you know."

Sayu just stared at Matsuda with a blank look. Matsuda amended his statement with red cheeks: "Well, I mean, he has his good points... He's really smart!"

"Yes, Matsuda, Light is really smart." Sayu smiled then and walked past him.

Sayu walked into the dining room where Light and the gang were already seated. They didn't even look up. She frowned. Maybe she had actually been looking forward to having an argument about the hair—this lack of reaction was a little unnerving. Sayu took the only available seat, the one next to the new partner.

It was weird. Light had never had a woman partner before. She was vaguely pretty, if somewhat dull-looking—she wore enough black to look at home in a funeral. Or Hell. The woman looked over at Sayu when she sat down and smiled slightly before saying, "Nice combat boots."

"Nice turtleneck, really sexy," Sayu said, digging out a nail file and sharpening her nails.

"Well, I wouldn't want to disappoint the prospective in-laws." The partner tapped her fingers against the table and looked meaningfully at Soichiro and Sachiko.

Sayu just stared, "...What?"

"You know, I expected the gypsy curse to kick in by now. It's late."

Sayu looked over at Light, who appeared to be having no problems whatsoever. "I hate to cut into your problems, but... Light doesn't do the marriage thing. Or the woman thing. Or the people thing, really."

"Oh no, no problem here. Just waiting for your brother to declare his love for me. Then I hope to be whisked off to the chapel, followed by you, Matsuda, and Light's hidden army of zombies that he keeps in his private mausoleum. No problem at all." Naomi looked down at her empty plate in distaste, as if she really wished she could begin stabbing her food.

"And people think I have problems," Sayu said to Matsuda, who seemed to be the only fellow sane person in the room. He just stared at her, then smiled wistfully. Never mind. She was alone.

"You don't have problems. Your hair is blue," Naomi said shortly.

"Of course not. All people with blue hair are stable individuals." Sayu nodded. "One of the most important facts of life."

"No, it means you try too hard to look like you're unstable. See Light? Notice any blue hair or piercings? Light doesn't need blue hair to be insane and unstable and have many large problems."

Sayu looked at Light, who was enjoying himself far too much for comfort. "We don't use Light as the standard for anything in this household. Family rule. Since the watermelon competition."

Naomi looked at Light, who just smiled pleasantly. "Watermelons. Why am I not surprised?"

"Oh yes," Sayu said, "it was the end of his relationship with Takada Kiyomi, as well. That poor girl. She never saw it coming. Light was always her white knight. It's so sad."

Naomi burst into hysterics but calmed almost immediately when she realized that everyone but Light was giving her 'the look'. "Sorry, continue your traumatizing story."

"Right, well, Takada thought she and Light were soulmates. They dated for quite a long time. He took her to restaurants, bought her overpriced chocolates..."

Naomi covered her mouth in an attempt to stifle the laughter. Sayu glared.

"Will you let me finish?" Naomi nodded, not the least bit apologetic. "Anyway, they were meant for each other. But after the watermelon incident... we don't talk about Takada anymore."

"Was she eaten?" Light's partner asked blandly. Sayu looked at Naomi, who for the most part looked relatively sane—if somewhat upset at the lack of food to stab. Sayu blinked and shifted her look to Light, who didn't look that unnerved.

"...What?" Sayu asked.

"Did he eat her?" Naomi asked and then sighed, looking up from her plate. "Listen, if you're going to say things like that, I have to assume that Light devoured her soul. Am I wrong?"

For once in her life, Sayu had the distinct feeling that she had just met a woman more frightening than herself. She suddenly wished that she was on the other side of the table, far away from Light's new partner. Sayu looked at Light and then to Naomi, wondering where the hell he had managed to find this one.

No one seemed to want to answer that. Light hadn't actually eaten Takada. He had just destroyed her mind and turned her into a devoted, sniveling wreck after he realized that he didn't actually care enough to even pretend to be interested in her. He also gave her an acute fear of watermelons.

Matsuda decided to ease the tension. "So Sayu, how's life been recently? I haven't seen you around much."

Sayu smiled sweetly and said, "Oh, I've been hanging out in the ghetto, beating grown men with a lead pipe. How about you, Matsuda?"

Matsuda awkwardly chuckled and pointed his finger at Sayu as if to convey he understood the joke. Then Light's partner looked sideways and said, "Matsuda, she isn't joking."

Matsuda stopped laughing and began to blush. Again. He looked down at his plate, and then looked at Light with a face halfway between a plea and an apology.

Soichiro and Sachiko looked vaguely ashamed yet resigned, as usual. Their expressions never changed during these stupid dinners. One day, Sayu wasn't going to show up and they were just going to have to deal with the disappointment.

"Are these dinners normally this much fun?" asked Naomi to the entire group. Everyone blinked and repressed their various sighs.

"Usually someone has the sense to bring booze. I don't remember much of the other dinners," Sayu grumbled. "When are we eating? If we're not eating, I am getting the hell out of here."

"Sayu, you're so impatient," said Light with a wave of his hand. Sayu crossed her arms at Light.

It had been a while since she had seen Light actually bother to dress nicely. Most of the time, he didn't bother to wear a suit—just walked around in casual clothes with a gun on his hip. Now he looked impeccable, like he did in high school when he had cared about his impression on other people. Sayu had assumed those days were long gone, but apparently they were back in full force. She realized that Light hadn't even bothered to say anything particularly evil yet. In fact, he looked as if he was having a good time…

"Sayu, you're staring. It's rather creepy. Did you want something?" Light asked.

"Who the hell are you and where did my brother go?" Sayu asked, to which Light simply looked at her and blinked before smiling.

"He's in a good mood because he's getting a reaction out of the Greatest Detective in the World. Which is a complete childish waste of time, if anyone was to ask me… But no one ever does." Naomi resorted to stabbing her empty plate instead of the food that had yet to appear.

"If we're not actually eating, I'd like to go. People to see, places to be..." Sayu gazed longingly at the door that was so very far away.

"In a minute." Sachiko's answer was quiet.

"Abandoning the family at the table somewhat defeats the purpose of a family dinner," Light said musingly, looking at Naomi. "What do you think?"

"I think that I really have no reason to be here and that if you weren't so socially inept, I could be doing something far more productive and enjoyable," Naomi said bluntly, staring at the wall rather than looking directly at Light.

"I invited you," Light said with a slight gesture of his hand, as if this were a perfectly normal occurrence.

Naomi just glared at the wall, her face becoming steadily redder as time passed. Sachiko exited to the kitchen and returned with the dinner. Everyone but Light sighed in relief at the signal that the awkward disaster was almost over.

And then Matsuda ruined the moment.

"So, um, Sayu do you have any educational plans for the future?" Matsuda asked, trying to break the ice again.

"Do I look like a girl with a future?" Sayu asked, stabbing her food and taking large, open-mouthed bites.

"… Doesn't everyone have a future?"

"It wasn't literal."

Matsuda turned very red and turned to Light and then to Sayu. "I was just trying to start a conversation…"

Sayu picked up her food and then threw it against the wall. She stared at the dripping noodles. She stared at the family. "Well, I feel better now."

"Later, bitches." Sayu then proceeded to walk out the door, never to return until the next time Light got a partner. Or New Years. Whatever came first.

Somewhere inside that house, Light was in hysterics at her misery.

* * *

>Mello and Matt crashed incognito at the local adult store. They had been checking the scene to see how the master plan had been going, but unfortunately it had been going a little too well. Mello was in the middle of the second biggest tantrum of the month.<p>"What the hell?" he screamed at Matt. The girls at the register to turn around with blank expressions and panicked eyes.<p>

"I think this means we did a good job," Matt pointed out.

"He's not that good looking! He's certainly not better than me, so why do they buy his poster?"

Mello was referring to the master plan: the plan to make large posters featuring a half-naked Light Yagami who rested on a bed with sheets in ruin around him. It would be humiliating, life-scarring, malevolent! Light would never be able to walk the streets again. The only problem with the plan is that everyone but Mello seemed to like it. He thought it would be embarrassing, but instead he was bolstering Light's sex ego.

They were selling far too many.

"I hate to say it, Mello, but when Inspector Yagami tries, he does have a certain sexual appeal…" Matt trailed off, looking warily at Mello as Mello's face turned an angry shade of purple.

"NOT YOU TOO. YOU'RE MY BITCH, NOT HIS!"

The cashier sighed. He had been hearing this for over an hour now, and he was getting rather tired. He looked at Mello as if he really wanted to throw him out. Unfortunately, Mello was his best customer and a mob boss, so it wasn't really an option.

"You photoshopped his abs, didn't you!" Mello griped, sniffing as he surveyed the poster hanging on display.

"…Perhaps."

Matt then realized that his cell phone was ringing. He surveyed the message with raised eyebrows.

"What's that?" Mello asked.

"Light Yagami thanks us for the celebrity status but he thinks we may have put too many bed sheets in the picture."

"Remind me to kill him! In the most painful way imaginable!"


	6. Chapter 6

Light and Matsuda were at a bar. Despite what people thought, Light actually did hang out with Matsuda occasionally. It wasn't as if they were great friends, but sometimes they talked. Light wasn't all bad, despite the general lack of hygiene and proper social etiquette; sometimes he could be a great person to hang out with. And he made the most hilarious death threats when he was tipsy.

Matsuda looked over at Light, who was still looking nicer than normal. He was wearing a suit without any blood-stains and his gun was neatly concealed under the jacket instead of sticking out almost obscenely (like usual). He wasn't smiling or anything, but Light never smiled, so for Light, the whole aesthetic thing looked pretty fancy. Matsuda wasn't sure if it was the new partner or the L war or what, but something was different. Light was… different.

"Matsuda, you're staring," Light stated, downing a shot of gin. Light liked his alcohol like his women—hard.

When Matsuda actually thought about that statement, though, it didn't really make much sense. He should probably rework that sometime.

"Oh, sorry." Matsuda smiled and shrugged, scraping at a piece of paint on the bar. Light frowned slightly and ordered another shot.

There was a bit of an awkward pause as Matsuda tried to think of what to say to Light now that he was in a good mood. It was such a rare opportunity; he had to find just the right thing to say…

"Hey Light," Matsuda said, and looked at Light, who appeared to be paying no attention whatsoever. "What do you think about your partner?"

"Which partner? Naomi?" Light asked blandly. Matsuda nodded.

It was pretty clear what Light thought about the other partners, as most of them were either insane or dead because of him.

"Yeah," Matsuda said. Every day he was becoming more and more certain that Naomi and Light were meant for eachother. It was just like a romance novel: spunky former FBI agent tries to tame the rogue detective and love sparks. Matsuda could have written it while wearing a blindfold.

"You were right, she does shoot well," Light said offhandedly. "Of course, the fact that she worked with L only leaves me to believe that she is secretly an agent of the great detective. Let's face it, Matsuda, she's too good for us." Light brushed aside that last comment with a flick of his hand as if it meant nothing.

Matsuda felt his cheeks begin to burn. That was it! Light thought that she was too good for him. Well, she probably was, morally, but that wasn't the point. If Light ever wanted to become a normal person then he'd have to recognize his own abilities and self-worth. Maybe that was Light's problem: he was secretly insecure and hid his insecurities behind a god-complex!

"That's not true, Light. She's not too good for you!" Matsuda said.

"Matsuda, I never said she was too good for me," Light said with a cocked head, as if he was trying to imply something that Matsuda just wasn't quite grasping.

Matsuda decided to continue on his original train of thought instead of trying to figure out what Light's cold stare meant. It was starting to creep him out. It crawled vaguely like those moments when he realized that Light had committed acts of terrorism in the name of Tokyo, and that Matsuda would be the one who would have to explain it away.

"And what do you mean, she's working for L? How can she be working for L when she's working with you? That would be… it would just be wrong!" Naomi could never do that to her true love, even if her true love was pretty scary. Still, if anyone could handle Light's scariness and transform him into a good man, it would be his true love, Naomi Misora.

"She's worked with him before. She's clearly very competent, which is a little more than the rest of our dear NPA has to say. Whenever I ask about the great detective, she's dismissive and rather bitter. A little too obvious and heavy-handed to be genuine. No one besides me can possibly dislike L that much." Light paused and took a drink of gin, again causing Matsuda's eyebrows to raise; he was really downing a lot of those.

Matsuda interrupted, "Yeah, but that doesn't mean…"

Light cut him off and set down the glass. "Not to mention, she's not my greatest fan, and has made that plain on multiple occasions. She barely speaks about her private life. As far as we know, she doesn't even live in the country. She has L's proxy written all over her," Light finished with his hands raised.

Here was his chance to become a good, normal, great, wonderful person with a romantic interest and he was throwing it away because she might have worked for L one time for one case or something. Sometimes Light was an idiot.

"What?" asked Light when Matsuda stood up dramatically in the bar next to him.

"How dare you!" He stood there gibbering for a moment, stunned with outrage. Matsuda finally managed to sputter out, "You'd throw away everything just on useless suspicions! You have a real chance here, a real chance, but you don't want to take it because you're too afraid!" Matsuda finished by jabbing his finger in Light's chest.

Light just looked at him and finally said, "Matsuda, you have possibly become even dumber than you were before. It's a new record. Congratulations."

Matsuda decided then and there that Light would never understand. If this was going to work—and it would work—Naomi was going to need all the help she could get. And Matsuda would see that she would get it.

* * *

><p>It was in that moment that she knew that no one was coming to save her. He could always tell. Their eyes went dim and glazed; they looked at the ceiling; and they realized that they were little more than whales with a harpoon in their stomach. Like Moby Dick, if Ahab had been anything like these dreadfully competent modern whale-killers.<p>

He stood over her and grinned, really feeling he should explain this time.

"No one's going to find out, either," he said, staring down at her with a maniacal grin. "Because I'm just too good, sweetie." He laughed cheerily; she looked away.

This was the infamous whale-killer. He was not called the whale-killer because he killed whales, but because he killed in the name of them. The police department had wasted all their talent and creativity on the Kira case; now only Matsuda and a disgruntled Light bothered to name the killers. The choices were whale-killer or whale-man or baby-beluga—and the whale-man preferred the first to all of them. It most properly captured his true spirit, wild and free, at home in the great depths of the ocean...

He had yet to make the blood fountain, and was running a bit behind, but he was enjoying himself far too much. He just had to tell someone of his success—even if the someone he was going to tell was going to die very soon, and then wouldn't remember a thing he said. It was such a pity; he'd probably have to tell the next one, too.

His head shook back and forth wildly. Time to continue. He lifted his knife menacingly, back hunched and grin wide. "All the detectives are looking for me. L, Yagami Light, the entire NPA—and the best they can do is chase me in a car." He paused to laugh as if this was hysterical.

He tried not to be bothered by the fact that his hostage wasn't laughing; he had gagged her, so maybe that was the problem. He failed to recognize the fact that not only was he insane—he wasn't funny.

"But I don't have a car anymore! So they'll keep looking and they'll find nothing and the whales will live! The whales will live because you and your kind die! It's a nice trade-off, don't you think?"

The woman didn't shake or nod her head. The whale-killer was getting a little annoyed. He had expected something more dramatic on her part. If you have an audience, what's their use if they aren't entertained by you?

He sighed. "I guess you don't really care about all of that, though. Not that I blame you. You've been suckered by callous modernity. They only care about the trees—the whales are forgotten. It's not your fault; they've conditioned it into you. But someone has to pay. The masses are faceless and act as one, so you are just as good as the next."

She didn't seem to be awed or changed by his words, either. He clearly hadn't gotten through to her, he thought. There was no saving this one, just like there was no saving any of them. They were unrepentant. Vile. The whales died and they did not know or care. He was the only one fighting for them, and even this woman, faced with her death, did not beg for his pardon.

He looked at the walls and the carpet and sighed again. "Well, I guess I'll just have to kill you now."

And that was the fourth time.

* * *

><p>"So, Misora-san, how do you like our dear detective?"<p>

Naomi knew she'd regret answering the phone.

"He's delightful. Can I go home yet?" Naomi asked her benefactor, the detective L, who perhaps annoyed her even more than Inspector Light Yagami.

It was a hard thing to consider, actually. But after much debate she'd decided that they both put her in mortal danger without considering the consequences of her demise and they were both assholes. Light was only better because he at least talked to her, and was nice to look at; L just spammed her voicemail.

Naomi was currently standing in the middle of the hallway at the NPA homicide division's office. The office mates were giving her weird looks, then shrugging as they figured since she had lasted a week with Light Yagami, she must be insane too. She was insane by association: that was how low she had sunk.

L gave an amused chuckle through the telephone and she began to grind her teeth.

"Oh no, Misora-san, you can't go home yet," L said with a cheerful smile (she could see it through the telephone). "You still haven't tortured and humiliated Light Yagami. I can't let you leave until you've proven you're somewhat competent."

"Really. Because you were originally paying me just to work for the NPA," Naomi said, her eyebrows lowering dangerously.

"Yes, well, I lied."

Naomi somehow was not surprised.

Matsuda passed by her in the hallway and gave her a really weird look. She responded by continuing to glare at empty space. Sure, everyone thought she was insane—apparently even Matsuda—but she comforted herself by telling herself that one day she would kill L and paint the walls with his innards. Sort of like the whale man, but with fewer blood fountains and preachy environmental messages.

"You know, Ryuzaki, Yagami may be an ass, but he does have a point. I really hate you too." Naomi decided that it was threat time. "Frankly, I'd rather be a dummy in Light's demonstration video than spend another moment as your pet monkey. If you ever, and I mean ever, call me again demanding I do anything, you will find a car bomb in your mailbox and your severed hands hanging from the ceiling fan!"

Naomi hung up the phone and smiled. The office was staring at her, including Matsuda, who looked slightly more traumatized than usual.

"Well," Naomi said in a failed attempt to break up the silence, "I feel better now."

* * *

><p>Matt wasn't sure why he had decided to look up L on Wikipedia but he was rather surprised by what he saw. He blinked at his computer and then looked at it again. Judging from the accuracy of the information, his initial guess was Near or Mello, but after a moment of thought he presumed it was Inspector Yagami.<p>

Only Light Yagami would bother looking up that much information about Wammy's Orphanage for his own amusement and L's suffering.

(Speaking of which, the Wammy's orphanage page listed that the founder, Quillish Wammy, had established the orphanage out of an immense desire to watch children intellectually dog fight, procure crippling social disabilities along the way… and create the greatest detective in the world.)

Matt was trying to decide whether he wanted to tell Mello or not.

The picture he had used was the gothic L juxtaposed with what looked like a crackhead. Matt didn't think it was L, but then again, there were rumors…

The description wasn't terrible. He did say that L was a brilliant detective who took on the pseudonyms of at least five other detectives—Coil and Daneuve among them. He said that L had been a child prodigy. The real downer was that he listed L's social etiquette horrors, his probable sexual orientations and frustrations, and his general failings in the area of human rights.

The sad part was that Light didn't even have to make it up. It was all true (except for the sex part, but then again, Matt had never thought about L and sex before, and he hoped he would never have to again). Maybe that part was true, too—but it seemed like a petty comeback to that insult L had landed on national television.

Even after living with Mello, this was getting a little weird. Matt wasn't quite sure what to think anymore, or what to do about the Wikipedia page.

If he valued his time with Mello and his old role model, he'd edit it immediately; if he valued his life he'd leave it be and wait until Mello did it, because somehow the meddling detective would find out that it was Matt who changed the page. Only someone actually associated with L would change the page, and there were so few of those that they'd all meet unfortunate accidents if they tried. Restraining order or not.

Matt was beginning to feel that the restraining order had been a very bad idea. If they hadn't shut Light out, then none of this would have happened. So when you got down to it, it was all Mello's fault.

* * *

><p>Matsuda had a new case on his desk. He hated it when there was a new case on his desk because it always meant he had to talk to the scary L on the computer. He was sure that L wasn't this scary in person, but without a face he was… pretty terrifying. Like snakes. Matsuda was really disturbed by snakes.<p>

"Director Matsuda, I'm sure you're aware that I am the only one competent enough to possibly solve this case."

Matsuda sighed and looked out the window to where Light was no doubt waiting with his axe. Whenever L talked to Matsuda, he pretended Light wasn't on the force and that everyone who worked for Matsuda was a complete idiot.

It was just ridiculous. Ever since Light had started their war, L had gotten even worse. He was now offering to investigate a hit and run. Even Light hadn't seemed interested when he brought it up; he had been too busy solving the whale case without permission. He had waived it off, but now L wanted…

"I mean, you can have the case if you want…" It hardly even counted as homicide. Yes, it was horrible, it was tragic, but it wasn't L's usual. L's usual was Kira killing thousands without a single trace of evidence; but there was plenty of evidence in this, and more than a few traces. It was practically a paved road back to some half-inebriated idiot.

"I intend to."

Was it just Matsuda or was there a smirk inherent in that question?

"Ummmm, so then, I guess we're done here." Matsuda tapped his fingers on his papers and whistled, looking around waiting for the gothic L to wink out without a sign (as usual). L seemed to be taking his time today—as if he was observing Matsuda for signs of weakness to later exploit.

"What do you think of Misora Naomi, director?" The mechanical voice suddenly asked, dragging Matsuda out of his thoughts.

"Huh?" Matsuda chuckled awkwardly. "Um, well, is it really important?"

Matsuda was met only by silence on the other end of the computer.

"Erm, well, she's the only person I've ever seen get along with Light!" Matsuda repeated his laugh, which was more like a half-mad giggle at this point. L would understand the joke, he assumed.

L said nothing. Matsuda got the feeling that he was seething on the other end. But that couldn't be right, because why on earth would L care?

"Yeah, never better without her…" Matsuda trailed away and waited for L to log off.

L didn't abandon him until a minute of silence later. Matsuda then sighed and sat back, waiting for Light to ambush him and demand why L had gotten a case from Japan. Matsuda loved his job, but sometimes… well, sometimes he hated it a little.


End file.
